


Tomorrow Is In Your Hands

by GCFF



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GCFF/pseuds/GCFF
Summary: There's more than one way to be connected.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Tomorrow Is In Your Hands

He was holding his breath the best he could, his skin bristling as a reaction to the presence, that also brought tears to his eyes, as a path of monstrous handprints approached him in the dark.

_Don’t... don’t come any closer –_ he prayed, if there was a god listening _– Don’t touch me._

He may not be able to see the menace – his DOOMS level wasn’t that high – but he could feel it, as terrifying as the idea of being touched. In fact, not being able to see the undeniable monstrosity that tracked him back in the dark, maybe trying to catch the scent of fear, as eagerly as if it feed from it, was a blessing. One of the few ones that remained in the world those days.

The rain soon would vanish, and with some luck, the invisible predator would be gone with it. He just needed to hold on a bit more. Ironically, he was quite calm considering his current situation. It wasn’t his first time, and he highly doubt it would be the last. Not that the idea of a supernatural unknow entity lurking him amidst the darkness of a cave were exactly pleasant, but as long he remained carefully calm and still, it wouldn’t find him. Because if it did find him, it would touch him. And the touch would bring a black and viscous nightmare with it. One full of tortured souls, desperately touching him, griping his skin, as if begging to be brough back to life with him… or force him to join them in that hell. The marks of those hands were permanently printed on his skin like tattoos.

Finally, the paw prints began to move away from him, maybe having given up of a prey they couldn’t find, the deep growl echoing away accusing its frustration. The herbs growing and dying with unnatural speed underneath their trail followed its path to outside, as it seemed having decided to meet the inverted rainbow that traced the gray sky as the rain vanished into a break, a truce with the other side – not without finishing its performance with one of its principal attraction – the sight of ghostly figures hovering in the air, a remind that death would always be waiting.

He took a deep breath, then sighed. Just another day in the apocalypse.

Wiping the tears away he shrugged off, as if he hadn’t had been so close to death just a moment ago, and turned to verify his cargo, a pile of metallic cases with the “Bridges” logo arranged in a backpack, each one enveloped by a yellow adhesive stripe with the words “VOID IF TAMPERED” written on it. Still in perfect conditions, or at least, as much as it was possible. He can already imagine what they would say. It’s impressive! How do you do that? You really are a legend! Sam Porter Bridges, The Man Who Delivers, with capital initials, like a goddamn trademark.

Fuck that.

He didn’t give a damn. He always had been better off alone, so why should he care? The answer was simple: he didn’t. His world had already ended before the Death Stranding. The rest of it could very well just blow the fuck up too. And yet, he knew it would be useless. He would still be there, just him and another crater around him... and the one within his chest. Then, why he bothered to keep going? Just business, it was what he used to say to himself. Just his way to do a living. Being a repatriated or not, he still needed food and shelter, and if being a porter and making delivers by walking around an ended world, where few have the guts to go, grant him those things, so be it. Besides the haunting threat of BTs, of maniac thieves and the deadly rain, it wasn’t a job so bad, after all. It allowed him to be alone. It allowed him to not be touched.

Oh, well. Time to do another deliver.

* * *

The thunders echoed inside his head, almost overcoming the nervous whimper of the delicate being protected by a capsule attached to his uniform’s chest. His odadrek emitted a yellowish light, opening and closing its small rods at the speed of a panicked heartbeat. But not from his heart.

“I know” – he replied to the low cry, mostly as a way of conveying some assurance to the tiny being. He knew they weren’t alone. Just as he also knew that he wouldn’t let anything harm his precious partner.

Even with the dark drops of rain whipping against his improvised shelter, carried by a howling wind, he could see them. Now he could see them, thanks to the help of his unexpected delicate companion. Murky forms that resembled the humans they once were, floating in the air like tormented ghosts, as if the ultimate rest of death had been denied to them. Connected to each other by strands that could very well represent the doom they shared together. Lurking, tremulous, as if trying to find another soul to drag to their destiny.

He remained crouched steadily on his place, patiently waiting for an opportunity to escape the area, infested with BTs. Breathing in a calm rhythm. Carefully moving, one studied step after the other, so they couldn’t find him. _Don’t do any unnecessary actions, and you will be fine_. Any other one with weaker nerves would already had panicked and done something really stupid, like trying to run away. Understandable, given the way that darkness had gain the power to come to a wicked, twisted form of life, becoming animalistic demons that would drag any poor bastard they reached to the depths of a black hell.

But sometimes the wiser thing to do was to wait. The storm will go away. And it will take the nightmares with it.

“People can’t live alone” – he remembered Amelie saying that to him, with a nervous anxiety that he could feel even through the chiralgram.

“What’s the point in reconnecting people?” – had been his impatient reply – “These things will still be out there!”

“But there will be hope!” – she replied him.

Hope. A concept that he didn’t even remember anymore. And yet, it was for hope that he had accepted her pleads. Hope to find her, see her again. Save her. And she was right. “Legend” or not, he couldn’t do that alone. So, for her, he accepted the mission to “reconnect” people again. Working his way through a devasted land while carried the weight of hope upon his shoulders, delivering it to prepper after prepper; to station after station.

“We need to recover human knowledge” – Deadman and Die-Hardman insisted with him. – “But to do that, we need to reconnect people. That’s the only way we have now to recover our history, to share information. That’s the only way we may find a hope to rebuild our world”.

While he observed the paw prints once again hunting for an oblivious victim, as the shadowy ghosts wailed their destiny, he though that the world would never be the same again. Not after that. Not with things like those still out there. And yet… journey after journey, delivery after delivery, he also had the opportunity to learn some things, to discover new things. His BB was one of them, even the most important one. Thanks to Lou, he could see the danger. To know the danger made it easier to avoid it. Avoid its touch… and the consequences it could bring. Preppers really were the smart ones, staying safe in their shelters, where those things couldn’t touch them.

At first, many of them were hesitant in face of the idea of “reconnecting”, and he could relate to that. Mankind had already fucked everything up so many times, in so many crazy ways, that another attempt to “rebuild the world” seemed more like a sick joke. Yet, to his surprise, once they accepted to reconnect, their opinions seemed to have changed. The chiral network allowed them to have access to resources. To contact other preppers, many as isolated and lonely than themselves. Most of all, it allowed them to share ideas that could help turn everybody´s life a bit easier. Something that seemed impossible before.

And they didn’t even need to see each other in person to do that.

It was kinda funny that, even when he did a delivery, he never really saw any of his clients in person, for which his afefobia was thankful. But their grateful messages, transmitted by holograms, was a proof that the touch wasn’t an indispensable requisite to be connected.

Sometimes, to simple know that there is still somebody there, could be enough.

His odadrek’s spin finally was slowing down, as if following the weakening of the rain. The paw prints were leaving, once again without a victim. All he had to do was be patient and stay sheltered, until the storm went away. Yes, he knowns that keep in place wasn’t always possible – damn, that was exactly what his job was about. To be out, so others could remain safe. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be smart and take advantage of all the precautions he had at his disposal.

Finally, the inverted rainbow appeared on the sky. The rain was over, the BTs gone with it. His odadrek waved an adieu to them, before repositioning on his back. Lou giggled inside the pod, the delicate laugh being more than enough a proof that, for now, everything was fine again.

Detaching the capsule from its support on his uniform’s chest, he turned it so could see the little kid it protected. Lou giggled again, letting out small bubbles of contentment, some of them even resembling little hearts. He gave a smile back to the BB, something that he didn’t even notice. That he though had already forgotten.

“Someone is happy!” – he commented, lulling carefully the pod for some moments, just to hear the delicate happy sounds from the baby inside it.

Lou was just a tiny fragile baby, not even having officially born yet. But he already had a deep bound with the little kid, a bound that didn’t need touch to be developed. Even so… even so…

For the first time in a long time, he wanted to feel a touch. Lou’s touch. He wanted the opportunity to have that child in his arms, feel the delicate heartbeat, observe the curiosity in the baby’s eyes directly, and not through a yellow glass. Hold the tiny hands, while lead it to a future where the kid would be safe to feel the touch of the breeze on the skin, play outside, hear other voices that wouldn’t be muffled by the liquid it now was floating in. 

There was hope. Thanks to the reconnection, weapons against the BTs were in development. Materials more resistant to the effects of the chiral rain were in development. The Beach was being studied, and maybe it could provide some answers to what the Death Stranding really meant. The world may never be the same again… but it didn’t mean it couldn’t be good.

“I promise that, one day, I’ll show you the world”. – he whispered to the baby, as rearranged its capsule back on his chest. But first, he had to help to rebuild a better world.

Whistling a calming song that kept the little baby giggling happily some more, he took another look to the inverted rainbow. There was still a lot to be done, many challenges to be faced, but they weren’t alone. One day, he wouldn’t fear to be touched anymore.

_Tomorrow… is in our hands._

**Author's Note:**

> This is an one-shot, inspired by the present quarantine reality. Just my way to have and convey some hope. To show that, together, we can do anything. And that we don't need to touch to be connected. Today, we may not be able to touch each other, as we used to do. But, tomorrow...
> 
> Tomorrow is in our hands.


End file.
